Chapter 11

A spiring to think and behave beyond his years, Donal succeeded such that if one discounted a body just beginning to gain good height and musculature and a voice not yet of the deep, he would be thought two or three years beyond his eleven.

Amaury had only enough room in his heart for Mace, but had he more, Donal might find a way in.

“Whatever ye ask of me, ’twill be done well, Master Argent,” he said amid the din of dock workers shouting insults at one another over who was responsible for a pallet spilling its goods, then accepted the sealed missive. “I shall take this directly to the courier’s office so it goes out this day.”

Maintaining his English accent, Amaury asked, “You have sufficient coin?”

“Plenty.” The boy patted his tunic, revealing the bulge of a purse worn inside lest those of his former profession relieve him of it. “Master Bigley supplies me well.”

“He is in the warehouse? ”

“Aye, an hour past working the books.” He grinned. “And grumblin’.”

That sounded Charles who, proficient with accounting, preferred the outdoors to the indoors and the throw of a fist to the scratch of a quill.

“He will be glad to see ye again, Master Argent. Been long since last ye come.”

Feeling every month that could have become more had not all toppled at Wulfen, Amaury jutted his chin. “Make haste.”

Donal hesitated, said, “I tell again I am glad ye gave me another chance.”

Amaury inclined his head. “Steady on, and above all exercise much caution.”

With something between a laugh and a sigh, the lad patted the place where a blade nearly ended his life. “I have no wish to be stuck again,” he said, then turned in good boots and disappeared among the many as if a mouse gone down a hole.

Amaury checked the fit of his cap, once more chided himself for not shaving his head, then after surveying this stretch of docks to ensure none paid him undue notice, stepped from between a ramshackle inn and an eatery.

Chin down so the cap shadowed his face, he strode forth and considered the dozen ships anchored offshore. Two belonged to him, purchased sight unseen from a Flanders shipping company whose assets were dissolved following the death of its owner. For being acquired before Amaury departed France, it was not until he reached England he was able to confirm his investment was as sound as his partners, Charles and Richarde, claimed.

The largest of the ships was named The Pleiades of Greek mythology for the seven daughters of Atlas being transformed by Zeus into a cluster of stars to escape the hunter, Orion. Amaury had retained the name for the appearance of those stars in winter marking it as the beginning of a new season and seven being the number of years lost to him. As for the slightly smaller ship, he renamed it Orion’s Song, first for the English translation of his true surname being song, second for Orion becoming a constellation upon his death, allowing him to resume his hunt for The Pleiades and forever chase them across the sky.

Since Amaury intended his ships to travel together for protection against piracy when possible, the names fit. Were he to survive what lay ahead and prosper, other vessels would be added to the convoy with crews as formidable as those now in his pay.

Shortly, he turned west. After weaving among side and back streets, he arrived at the rear of The Great Mercia Shipping Company warehouse, took a key from his purse to work the lock, and entered and ascended the stairs.

If the Flemish Charles, who took the surname Bigley and was as careful as Amaury to conceal his accent, expected anyone, it was Richarde returned from Wulfenshire. Not a bad thing since catching an ally unaware was a good test of alliance. And unawares he caught the one who passed his allegiance to Amaury after serving the sire of Alainne’s first husband.

The man of good height and breadth and half again Amaury’s years lay atop his desk where sunlight angled through a window whose panes were intact despite cracks. Head propped on hands clasped behind it, legs crossed at the ankles, he hummed. Doubtless, the tasks over which he grumbled were complete and he rewarded himself. Were it near day’s end, likely he would close up early and row out to their ships to ensure the crew remaining aboard were not lax in their duties.

Amaury could have announced himself sooner, but contentment about Charles made him linger in the doorway and long for a small portion of the man’s peace. He knew he should not close his eyes for the vulnerability of doing so, but he did and was unsurprised when Charles said, “I should be ashamed at being stolen upon, but unlike you, I do not possess exceptional senses.”

Amaury met his gaze. “Charles.”

“Master Argent,” he named him that which aided in maintaining the cover of one whose death Les Fléaux sought, though well he knew Amaury’s true identity. Heaving a sigh, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the desk. Boots meeting the floor, in his adopted English accent, he said, “As I did not expect to see you any time soon, I have cause to worry over Richarde.”

Amaury stepped inside the largest room in which business was conducted and, as ever, was impressed with the order imparted by this reluctant clerk. “Just as unforeseen circumstances delivered me sooner than he wished, they incapacitated him.” As Charles’s eyes widened, he added, “For a time only,” and hoped the physician’s diagnosis was correct.

Charles blew breath up his face. “And here I thought a shortened work day ahead.” He gestured at armchairs before an unlit brazier, and as Amaury dropped into one, moved to a sideboard.

“I await the tale,” Charles said when he passed one of two cups and lowered opposite, then listened intently to what transpired between meeting Richarde in the wood and leaving him and the Wulfrith lady at the inn.

Amaury finished his wine and set his cup on the table between them. “What of note has transpired since Richarde departed Boston?”

Further, Charles settled in. “Let us begin with the ships. Having delivered their wool to Flanders?—”

“Richarde informed me,” Amaury said. “Sailing one with the other, they discouraged merchant vessels that sought a better profit by way of pirating, and discouraged others on the return trip when the cloth destined for English nobles became a target.”

“That is so, your captains and men doing you proud, saving the best of their maneuvering for an audience of other ships in the vicinity to further the reputation of The Great Mercia Shipping Company.”

No easy feat, Amaury thought, since the great of the company consisted of two ships at this time. “The men will be rewarded,” he said.

“They are aware compensation will be greater and their lives longer in service to Master Argent.”

It was a fine line walked in employing sailors at least as experienced in pirating as with evading pirates, but thus far the ground Amaury, Richarde, and Charles laid stayed firm. The promises given carefully selected men, among whom were seeded those who had served Amaury when English vessels avoided encountering him on the sea, were kept. Though occasional incidents threatened to unsettle all, Richarde quickly corrected offenders before they were beyond correction.

“I am glad, Charles. What of the next shipment?”

“A fortnight hence, The Pleiades and Orion’s Song take on cargo bound for Scandinavia. If the weather holds, they set sail the day after and, on the return, carry foodstuffs to be sold here.” He leaned forward. “As Richarde and I agree we should bide our time a while longer, furthering our reputation before contracting a delivery to Scotland, you must be patient. For what happened on Wulfenshire, I do not doubt you are nearer aggression than restraint, but more time will increase our chance of success. And that is of greater import for the Wulfrith lady being in Boston. ”

Withholding comment on that, Amaury said, “Have you leads on where Les Fléaux hide out here?”

Charles grimaced. “Had not the royal contingent come through, likely there would be nothing to report beyond occasional signs Gert keeps men in Boston, which is now proven for Richarde being followed to Wulfenshire.” He shifted his jaw. “The day King Edward’s men entered the town in search of pirates, I set Pietro among the watchers, hopeful the rats would slink out. Fortunately, he recognized two of his former comrades and one was Hugh.” At Amaury’s swift breath, he continued, “He but briefly showed himself in scampering forth to gain better cover.”

“And the other former comrade, Charles?”

“It was Silas.”

He should be prepared for that, but memories of what followed the night of his capture outside Calais caused the dark in him to expand, its pressure making his ribs ache.

“Amaury!”

He jerked, then Charles’ hand gripping his arm came into focus. “Leave it in the past!”

He wanted to, but… Be oak, be stone, be iron! Amaury silently repeated the credo that had been nearly as vital to his survival at the quarry as bread and water.

“Only pain in going there,” Charles said.

He should not know what was done Amaury on that ship, but Gert ensured others unlawfully plying the sea were told of the vengeance worked on Le Fléau, and those tidings that reached Richarde were shared with this man. Much truth to what Gert had sown, though not that Amaury had died.

With authority Charles did not have over one who had given him and Richarde a fifteen percent stake in his company, he said, “ Heed me!”

Easing his fisted hands, Amaury nodded. “Master Argent is back.”

Charles released him, said, “Providing we exercise patience to cultivate the right moment, our destination is all but assured.”

As Amaury knew, though even now memories and emotions conspired to upend the plan that was to ensure he need never again fear ill worked on him would find its way to Mace. “I am…aware,” he said, then determinedly pushing Hugh, Baudri, Herman, and Silas to the back of his mind, asked, “What know you of the king’s contingent come through Boston?”

Charles refilled their cups and returned. “As you must have learned, they arrived on the day past. What you may not know is Sir Achard Roche met with Boston’s leading citizens, including the sheriff and dock master. They were behind closed doors for hours, then explored the docks and nearby streets.” He raised a staying hand. “Our company did not come under scrutiny. When they departed early this morn, their numbers were two score greater.”

“Then Sir Achard collected some of Boston’s defenders?”

Charles nodded. “Among the best, and many versed in the doings of the docks. One need not think deep to know Boston complies with King Edward’s orders, and Sir Achard’s contingent will continue adding to their numbers as they venture farther north.”

As far as Scotland? Amaury wondered, then said, “In search of pirates who have become more than a nuisance, meaning not only must we get in front of Les Fléaux but the contingent.”

“Or leave Les Fléaux to the wrath of England’s king,” Charles suggested what he knew would be rejected since that king only believed he knew the ways of such villains .

“Non, we alter our plan only when necessary to…correct for the unexpected.”

“Amaury—”

“I have not come this far to allow Gert to gain my backside again.” He stood and crossed to the window whose panes were lit as much by the sun in the sky as its reflection off the sea. Though the glass was distorted, easily he picked out The Pleiades and Orion’s Song and saw activity on the decks and men up the masts.

Pride crept around his edges, though of a different sort from when last he was responsible for a ship and crew. As a Calais merchant, vessels serving his import and export needs had belonged to others. These two and the risks inherent in their undertakings were his—and more dangerous for his purpose that at this time had less to do with supplying the needs and wants of strangers than revenge.

“Though I hesitate, I shall stand with you whichever way you turn,” Charles said drawing alongside.

Rejecting the voice born of seven years of suffering that urged him to trust no more than halfway, he accepted, As worthy of great trust as Richarde, and said, “I thank you, my friend.” Then deciding to row out to the ships to allow his crews to renew their acquaintance with one who had the greatest interest in their success, Amaury departed the business front of The Great Mercia Shipping Company with his cap firmly in place.